Across the Great Divide
by Julchenawesomesauce
Summary: At the height of World War II, Alice is living a quiet and dull life in her little port town. But when the Americans come to dock, thanks to a loudmouth French friend, she meets one particular annoying soldier. Why is he enamored with her, and why won't he leave? USUK, Franada, T for Alice's lovely language and later violence.
1. Chapter 1

**UsxFem!UK. Slight Fem!FranCan. All historical information is accurate to the best of my abilities. Feel free to correct any mistakes with historical information or British/American 1940s slang.**

"Alice? Alice!"

The voice of a cross woman broke through the early morning quiet of a little flat in Portsmouth, England. Late April, 1944. The air was cool and humid, but really, when was it not?

"Coming, Mother!" In a room with a window overlooking the road, a young woman was grumpily dragging herself out of bed, every squeak of the metal bedsprings in the thin mattress grinding in her ears. She tossed her thin white shift being used as a nightgown into a basket – she was going to have to do laundry today, wasn't she? She stumbled over to her closet, not having her red rimmed glasses on yet. Through the feel of the fabric and the blobs of color she could make out, she pulled a worn and slightly patched light blue dress from the depths of immaculately organized hangers. There was nothing on the floor to stumble on when making her way back to the dresser and the mirror perched on it.

She tossed on a clean white shift and dark gray stockings under it, buttoning up the blue cotton to her neck, like a proper lady. Taking two red ribbons from the old wooden dresser, she tied up her long blonde hair into two high pigtails. Even with the lift from pulling them up, they still flowed to midway down her back.

At last she grabbed her glasses, putting them on and watching the world become clear to her grassy green eyes. She licked her dry lips, brushing some loose strands of hair out of her face. She never wore makeup even when it was more available and affordable. Nothing was too widespread nowadays. Really, she never needed it. Her skin was still light and smooth as cream, her lips delicately pink, and of course her eyes big and beautifully green, framed with long dark yellow eyelashes, though they were often narrowed. Sighing, Alice hurried out of her room. Mother wouldn't like it if she took too long in her room.

"There you are, Alice!" her mother scolded as Alice scurried to the kitchen table. Her mother was standing at the stove, pulling the scones from the oven. Alice noted with a little dismay how small they were. The radio was on, crackling with some notifications about a military exercise gone wrong in Devon. Just above the radio hung a small black and white picture of a man in a Royal Air Force uniform.

Alice just shook her head slightly, glancing out the window over the town. Across the city, large empty lots still stood with crumbling remnants of brick walls here and there. However, if one looked close, they could see sprigs of green shooting up against the ever present cinders.

"Alice Elizabeth Kirkland, I am speaking to you!" her mother said sharply, jolting Alice out of her observations. She turned her green gaze back to her, her mother giving her a stern look as she placed a chipped white plate in front of her with one small scone and a mug of tea. "Honestly, why am I serving you, miss? I am not your serving lady!"

She sighed, raising the mug to her lips, glancing at her mother over the rim. "I know Mother, I do apologize. I have just woken up, forgive me." She spoke with a cool and even tone simply dripping with dignity and maybe a drop or two of sarcasm. She raised an eyebrow, her least favorite feature, always oddly dark and thick. "Was there something else you wanted to tell me, Mother?" she asked, taking a sip of her tea. She wrinkled her nose ever so slightly.

Her mother glanced at the mug for a moment, noticing the look of discontentment on her daughter's face. "We're running out of tea leaves… and flour," she added, glancing at the tiny scone. "I needed to use some to make mine. But I do want you to do something for me. Go to the market for me today. I spoke with Mrs. Bonnefoy, she would be grateful if you went with Françoise."

Alice rolled her eyes as her mother turned her back. The French girl was quite a handful. Lovely maybe, but promiscuous and overly flirty and overall not Alice's idea of a proper lady in the slightest. She was a young woman who had fled Paris before the fall of her homeland and landed in Portsmouth. Alice's mother befriended Francoise's mother, and the girls had been paired together often as of late. The girls were somewhat friends, but were always at odds. Their personalities could not be more different.

"If you insist," she muttered quietly, munching her scone daintily. Her mother's cooking skills bothered her greatly. While no great chef, her mother was decent in the kitchen… and rather to say, Alice was not. At all. Her mother didn't let her cook in this time of food being tight because Alice could somehow manage to mess up toast.

She sighed, standing up. "I suppose I should get going then, before it runs out for the day," she pointed out, washing her dish quickly and walking back in the direction of her room to fetch her scuffed black leather pumps. Her mother simply nodded, turning her attention back to the stove and the radio. Sometimes Alice didn't really understand why her mother paid so much attention anymore. Alice cared just as much as the rest of them about the war, but sometimes depressing news was the last thing she wanted to hear. Sometimes, enough was enough.

"I'll be back soon, Mother," she called at the door after grabbing the ration vouchers on the countertop. Her mother gave a hum of acknowledgement as Alice shut the door gently. Now to Francoise's flat, on the second floor, the floor below Alice's. She stepped down the stairs quietly, being mindful of the other residents. She didn't want anyone else to be awoken like she had been, in an unpleasant fashion. On the correct floor, she knocked quietly on the plain wooden door, bracing herself for the impact.

"Alice!" a smooth and accented voice cried as the door flew open and Alice found herself half tackled by 8 stones of Frenchwoman. She cringed ever so slightly as Francoise kissed her on both cheeks – a French custom, to be fair, but Alice was English. And the offending girl had a tendency to be a little too enthusiastic with her lips for Alice's liking.

"Get off."

Francoise let out a tinkling laugh as she relinquished the irritated young woman from her grip. She stepped back and looked over Alice, her sapphire blue eyes sparkling with amusement. Her light brown hair was up in an elegant bun and she was sporting her ever present amethyst cloak with a dark turquoise blouse and a ridiculously impractical rosy pink skirt. Alice rolled her eyes. The girl always had to be the fashionable one, even in times like this. Her frivolous tastes bothered Alice to no end. They were going to the store, not to meet the Queen.

"I apologize, mon cher, I am just 'appy to see you. I 'ave been in thiz dreary appartement for too long, I fear," She informed Alice, leaning against the doorframe lazily. Alice glanced over her shoulder with disinterest, noting the ever present scent of wine and roses that always seemed to emanate from Francoise and her home.

"Whatever you say. Let's go now. I don't want to get there too late." She grabbed Francoise's gloved wrist and started to pull her away from her door. The brunette had a second to shout an 'au revoir, mere' to her mother and slam the door shut before Alice had her halfway down the hall and steering towards the stairs.

"Ma cherie, what iz your rush? Eet iz a beautiful day!" Francoise gushed once they were out of their building and headed down the cracked asphalt towards the harbor. Alice flinched as Francoise flung an arm around her shoulder. "Just enjoy eet for once, eh? You need to relax, far too often you seem to… 'ow may I say… 'ave a steek up your pretty leetle derriere."

Alice's eyes flew open at the insult. She glared at Francoise with her mouth hanging open for a few moments. "I do not! Just because I'm not a bit of skirt like you doesn't mean I have a stick up my arse!"

Francoise simply smirked at the insult. "Maybe you need one," she retorted back smoothly, laughing in a less than appropriate manner. Her laughter only increased as she started running, running away from a furiously blushing and annoyed Alice trying to take a swing at her arm, gasping that Francoise would say such a thing. Melodious laughter broke the morning stillness of the air as they ran towards the port.

Alice finally ran out of wind somewhere near the boardwalk, gasping for air for a moment. Straightening up, she looked over the harbor, still breathing heavily. The humid sea air coated her tongue with a salty sheen and filled her nose with the smells of ocean brine and smoke from the ships pulling in and out. The harbor and dockyard were the pride of the town. The people of Portsmouth were proud of their use as a naval base, despite the hardships it brought. The bombings were fresh in the soil and memories alike, but, like all of England, they held strong. Alice was filled with a deep rooted English pride to call this place home.

"Are you steel mad at me, Alice? Or can we go to ze shop without further incident?" a French-accented voice said beside her suddenly, causing Alice to jump ever so slightly.

"Without further incident, my arse… you started it…" Alice grumbled, brushing past her friend. Francoise took a look at the harbor as well and sighed, frowning for just a moment. Her home was across that stretch of mine infested water… she shrugged lightly and turned to follow Alice.

The two walked in silence for a few minutes, Alice not being really one to start a conversation and Françoise having already had her fun. The girls simply walked side by side, bypassing other citizens of the town and the occasional crumbly lot, like the one across the street from their flat building. They were almost to the store when something caught the lovely blue eyes of the older one. She grabbed Alice's arm and pointed out to the harbor again. "Alice, look. Ze soldiers."

She glanced over with mild interest. Sure enough, a tanker was anchored in the port. Alice narrowed her eyes, trying to see it clearer. An American ship.

Alice shrugged. "We get tankers here all the time. It's best to stay away from them," she advised, pulling Francoise along. Americans didn't come here too often, but it was a similar story to any other soldiers. Respect them, thank them and keep your young virgins away from them.

"But why, Alice?" Françoise whined. "I 'ave heard such wonderful theengs about ze Americans. 'ow 'andsome and brave zey are… and 'ow rich," she added, her eyes glinting in a way that Alice knew shouldn't be trusted.

"I am sure those accounts exaggerate greatly," Alice responded dryly. "They are no more handsome and brave than our soldiers… and our soldiers aren't so obnoxious and rude anyway."

"Why are you against ze Americans? You don't know any of zem."

"Why are you for them? You don't know any either."

Francoise shrugged. "Touché," she admitted. "Now come on. You were ze one who wanted to get to ze shop so badly, oui?" she reminded Alice, gripping her wrist. Ignoring any protests Alice might have been spewing, Francoise started pulling her along the road again. "We are almost zere."

She stopped just a block or so from the store, looking at it with interest. Alice, having finally pried herself out of Francoise's grip, glared at her. "What? What are you looking at now?" she asked irritably. Francoise just smirked, pointing at the front of the shop. Alice turned her head to where she was pointing and narrowed her eyes. "Damn."

Several young men were standing outside the store, passing cigarettes among them, simply talking and laughing, perhaps just a little loud for the morning. Their tan uniforms were unmistakable, a little unfamiliar but unmistakable. Even from a block away, she could hear their voices, different accents mingling in the air – Brooklyn, Boston, Connecticut, Texas. The Americans were here.

"Bloody wonderful…" Alice mumbled under her breath.

She was jerked forward again even more enthusiastically by Francoise, her friend already with a broad smile on her lovely face. Whenever the French girl smiled, Alice knew she should start worrying. "Whatever it is you're thinking, no! Didn't you hear what I said just a moment ago?"

"Je regrette, but I never do, Alice. Just calm down and enjoy yourself."

Alice pulled away. "I don't like to 'enjoy myself' the way you do! And I came here for an actual reason, not to fool around with the bloody Americans!" She started walking away from the Frenchwoman briskly, leaving her snickering in the middle of the sidewalk. Oh, if she had anything to say about it, she was going to.

Holding her breath against the cigarette smoke billowing around the entrance to the store, Alice walked in, blatantly ignoring the soldiers. The bell above the door tinkled as she pushed in, looking around at the small shop. The wooden shelves were sparsely lined with goods, most in small cardboard boxes. There were very few cans on the shelves. Metal was scarce and being concentrated to the factories. Alice sighed a little at the sight.

"Zat was very rude, ma cherie, leaving me in ze middle of ze street like zat," Francoise said suddenly, breaking the stillness beside Alice. She jumped, having not heard the girl come up beside her. Alice was somewhat surprised. She would have thought Francoise would have been outside longer with the damn Americans.

She brushed her off, going off to find the items her mother requested. Tea leaves and flour, was it? Turning down the aisle for the baking needs, Alice was disheartened by just how low the store was. There were but several smaller bags left on the low shelf. She fished the vouchers out of her pocket, checking them. They could afford two bags this week. Alice grabbed two bags and moved on to the next aisle. Now then, where was the tea located again?

She hadn't been paying too much attention to the murmurings coming from the next section. However, rounding the corner, she would have wished she had paid attention to the fact that people were back there, as she blindly walked into someone, a bag of flour slipping from her arms in surprise.

Alice stepped back, watching a hand quickly dip down to catch the escaped bag… and promptly miss, the bag thudding to the floor anyway.

"Heh. Aw damn. I tried, man," a voice sounded, presumably from the owner of the hand. Alice glanced up from the ground as the stranger scooped up the bag anyway, bringing it up to his chest. "Sorry about that, sweetcheeks."

The owner of said hand and of failing reflexes was a young man. Alice glanced at him, blinking once or twice. The most prominent feature about him was his eyes. His eyes were a brilliant cerulean sky blue, shining out from behind his wire silver framed glasses. They were smiling and friendly and full of optimism that one didn't see around here that much anymore, especially in such concentrations. They were minimally obscured by the occasional stray lock of hair, streaking across his forehead in sheens of golden brown, the color of wheat fields on a breezy summer day. One lock poked up above his forehead in an oddly shaped cowlick. His face was lightly tanned along his smooth skin down to his mouth, which broke into a bright grin at the girl in front of him. His smile was dazzling. Most of him was.

It figured that the last thing Alice noticed about him was his uniform. Tan with leather boots, along with a dark brown leather bomber jacket that must have been just for his personal preference. All in all, an American military uniform.

"I believe this is yours," the American said, handing out the package of flour. Alice only now realized that she hadn't said anything yet, just staring at him this whole time.

She blinked again, standing up straight and up to her full height – which was still a good seven centimeters shorter than him. "Of course it is," she replied stiffly, taking the package back gingerly, looking it over. Good, it wasn't broken. "Mind out next time," she warned, trying to brush past him.

"Hey! I said I was sorry, sweetheart," he insisted, moving somewhat to the side.

Alice stopped walking for a moment, not turning her back. "Don't call me that, git."

He laughed. "Wait. What's that mean anyway?"

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the shelves in front of her. If he didn't know, than he was one. Typical Yank. Now then, where were those tea leaves?

"Wait." He placed a hand on her shoulder, causing Alice to stiffen and recoil. Who did he think he was, touching her? She spun around, irritation rolling off of her in waves. The dumb American was still smiling, completely oblivious. "While you're here, mind telling me where the coffee is?"

Alice raised an eyebrow at him. Coffee? Ick. "I don't know," she told him icily.

"Eet ees right down 'ere," another voice purred. Alice looked behind her, finding Francoise at the end of the aisle, batting her eyelashes at the American. She shook her head dismissively, finally seeing her tea on the topmost shelf. Here she went already, chatting him up.

The good leaves were on the highest shelf. Curse her shortness. She stood up on her toes, reaching for the top. One box was just within her fingertips when it was snatched away from her. "Hey, I was-"

The box was being held out to her. She stood down, glaring at the holder in suspicion. That soldier was holding the box out to her, giving her that dazzling smile again. Alice blinked. How could anyone's teeth be that blindingly white?

"Here you are, doll."

Alice warily plucked the box from his hand once she got her senses back. His smile never went away, though he turned back to Francoise. "So, where's the coffee?"

She shook her head, taking the box in her arms and starting away towards the cash register. Francoise was going to take care of him, all right. However, she didn't get very far, almost running into another man in a similar uniform. Alice stepped back in shock. For a split second she thought she was seeing double. This man before her looked just like the other. Upon closer inspection however, it wasn't. This one did look very similar, to be fair, but everything was slightly off. He was a little shorter than the other. His hair was just a little wavier and a little longer and a little blonder. His skin was a shade paler and his eyes were more of a periwinkle than a sky. And of course he was sans jacket.

He stepped back faster than Alice had. "Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. His voice was much softer than the other man's. Alice sniffed. This soldier seemed to have more manners, at least. He stepped to the side quickly, leaving room for Alice to pass by unopposed.

She turned slightly, sighing in annoyance at Francoise's actions, gabbing animatedly with the young soldier, batting her eyes and everything. Alice scoffed. "Francoise, are you coming? Your mother wanted you home, I recall." Technically, it was Alice's mother that wanted her daughter home. Whatever.

Francoise tore her eyes away from the American, giving Alice a pouty face. "Must we? I am 'aving a good time," she whined, glancing back at the man beside her suggestively. Alice glowered at her.

"Yes, we must. And I don't give a flying fuck if you're having a 'good time', you can have a good time with someone else."

Alice didn't expect the louder American to burst out laughing. She turned her piercing gaze onto him. "What are you laughing at, git? I didn't do anything funny."

"That's what you think," he snickered. He put a fist on his waist, leaning against the shelf. "I thought you limeys were supposed to be all proper and polite and shit. All ladies and stuff."

Francoise laughed, putting an arm on his shoulder. "Ah, don't let looks deceive you, mon cher. Ma petit Alice, zough she likes to pretend, iz not much of a proper lady." Her eyes were twinkling, enjoying every moment of riling her friend up a bit.

Alice's eyes widened. How dare that little frog!... "I am more of a proper lady than you will ever be, thank you very much, you bloody skank!" she gasped. Francoise raised a delicate eyebrow, mildly impressed as Alice turned to storm away. Again though, she was interrupted by laughter. It was that damn American again. She just curled her hands into fists and kept walking before a hand stopped her.

She glared daggers at the man as he was still laughing. Eventually he straightened up, looking at Alice with amusement. "You're a fiery dame, aren't you? It's cute." Before Alice could say anything, the loudmouth kept on talking. "It's Alice, right?" He stuck his hand out, his blinding smile growing so large his cheeks might break off. "I'm Alfred F. Jones, American hero!" he announced loudly. Without waiting for Alice to move her own arm, Alfred grabbed her hand and gave it a little kiss on the back.

Her eyes widened even more as her cheeks grow pink rapidly. She retracted her hand as fast as possible. "What in the bloody hell was that?" she sputtered, wiping her hand on her dress. Most people she knew didn't do that… and besides, it was so unexpected.

Alfred looked over at his lookalike companion, looking a little frustrated after the rejection. "Man, I thought these guys did that over here."

"Well, it's not like you exhaustedly researched British etiquette before getting on the boat." He sighed, looking very used to the antics of his companion. He turned to Alice, looking sheepish. "I apologize for him. He always does this." He glanced behind her at Francoise. "Je m'excuse pour mon ami ici."

Francoise got a bemused look on her face. She stepped away from the noisier one and sidled up to the aurora-eyed blond. "Oh, a fellow speaker of ze language of love. Mon nom est Françoise, et le vôtre?"

She attached herself to the man's arm, already chattering away in French. The man looked shocked, like he was surprised that she had taken such notice of him. Perhaps he was unused to the attention? Francoise started leading him away, talking animatedly in French, pausing every few moments to let him get a word in edgewise. Alice turned the other way. Unfortunately, she did not get very far before the bloody remaining American tried to keep talking to her with that stupid gorgeous smile still present on his face.

"So, wait, Alice, is it? Would you-"

Alice spun around, her naturally limited patience already having run out. She glared at him coldly. "Listen, Yank. I'm not here to amuse you. Why don't you take your friend and head back to that oh so glamorous battlefield of yours and have your fun there?" Alice spun around on her heels and left the aisle quickly to go to the register.

Alfred leaned against a shelf, watching her go in confusion, his expression one of a kicked puppy. "I was just going to ask what aisle the cream was in…"

She stormed to the cashier, angrily tossing the slightly intimidated girl the vouchers. The young woman at the counter eyed Alice warily as she checked out the vouchers and placed the items in a small brown bag. Alice took the bag in one arm, keeping the other free for tearing Francoise away from her soldier. "Francoise. Now," she ordered, pulling her friend away from the blond man over Francoise's protests. "Good day now," she muttered to the bewildered blond as she pulled the Frenchwoman into the street.

"Zat was so rude, Alice!" Francoise pretended to gasp. "What did you do that for, eh? We were just talking! Surely even you are not zo prudent zat you would not even allow me to speak to a man!"

Alice just glared at her. "They were not just men. They are American soldiers."

"Zo? What do you 'ave against zem anyway? Mine was perfectly nice!"

Alice stopped walking, putting a hand out in front of Francoise. Her eyes were frozen over with bitterness as she stared at the stunned brunette. "Listen to me. Those stupid young Americans know nothing. They are overpaid, overfed, oversexed and over here where they shouldn't be. I would sooner they head over to the mainland where the _real _action they crave so much is."

She dropped her hand, leaving Francoise once again in the street as she shifted her bag to her other arm and walked away up the boardwalk. The sooner those damn soldiers were gone, the happier she'd be.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm home, Mother!" Alice called into the kitchen, setting the groceries on the counter. Without Francoise's company making her bad mood worse, Alice had stopped fuming somewhere along the walk home. Although, with her temper, it wouldn't take much to set her off again. "Mother? Where are you?"

Alice wandered through the flat for a moment, finally coming across her mother in her bedroom. She was sitting on the faded quilt on her bed, looking out the window at the charred lot across the street. There was a wistful look in her eyes, the same vivid shade as Alice's, if not a little mistier and cloudier with age and sorrow. Upon hearing Alice's footsteps, she turned her head slowly, blinking. "Oh, Alice. You're home."

"Are you alright, Mother?" Alice asked warily, sitting near her on the edge of the bed.

"Yes, I'm fine, love. Don't worry about it, I was just reminiscing."

"I understand."

A ghost of a smile slipped onto her mother's face. She shook her head lightly, bringing herself back to the present. "So, you went to the store like I asked? Did they have what we needed?"

Alice nodded, shoving the thoughts of the unpleasantness from the store into the back of her mind. "Yes, they did. Although I must mention that they were very low on everything there. We will still need to be mindful of our flour and tea."

"I expected as much," her mother sighed. She glanced at her daughter, a topic of interest popping into her head. "So, how is Francoise?"

The younger of the two let out a small, grating groan of annoyance. She had been hoping this wouldn't come up. "She's… the same as ever, really. Too upbeat and too much of a flirt. Really, tell me why you like me being with her?"

"She's good for you."

Alice cocked her head at her mother's answer. "How could you say she's a good influence on me? Her knickers go up and down like a yo-yo."

Her mother's cheeks went a little pink at the comparison. "Please Alice, don't say things like that, it's tasteless. And I never said she was a good influence on you like that. I meant maybe it's good for you to be around someone so… lively."

"That's one way to put it," Alice grumbled. She slipped off the bed onto the bare wooden floor, headed for the door. "I'll be in my room if you want me, Mother." At the door, she paused for a moment and looked over at her mother. She had gone back to looking out the window as well. Alice allowed a small bittersweet smile onto her face. _I understand, Mother. I understand._

Her own room was right next to her mother's, at the end of the hall. It was similar in its small size and bare floors, but Alice never minded. Her pastimes didn't require so much space anyway. Sitting on the edge of her own bed, Alice pulled out a small book from the drawer in her nightstand along with some drawing papers. Opening the book to a random page, she started studying the picture intently, copying the charted lines and dots with great care. Every few lines or points, she would scribble down a name near one dot of ink or another. _Alkaid… Mizar… Alioth… _

She was interrupted from her blissful quiet by a sharp knock coming from the main door. Alice sat up, hearing her mother walk briskly to answer it. She sat there with a feeling of dread growing inside of her. There was one very plausible way this was going to end…

"Alice!"

Yes, there it was.

She had just a moment to place her materials on her nightstand before the French hurricane swept into her room, taking the liberty of lying on the bed just beside Alice, batting her eyes. Alice jumped up, startled at the swift intrusion.

"Gah! Get off my bed, you slag!"

Francoise let out that tinkling laugh of hers, rolling from her side to her back luxuriously. "Ah, always zo rude, ma cherie. Why must you always insult me zo? One day you are simply going to break my leetle heart." She put a wrist to her forehead in pretend agony, though she was smiling jokingly.

"Sit up, you twit," Alice grumbled, leaning against the wall. Francoise pouted, sitting up as she crossed her arms across her chest, no doubt annoyed that Alice wasn't letting her have her fun. The blonde didn't waste any time. "What do you want?"

She was going to regret that question. From the moment she asked it, Francoise's face lit up. As that happened, Alice's own face paled. One day, she was going to learn to not ask that question if she really had no interest in knowing the answer.

"OH, mon ami! Before you pulled me away zo rudely at ze store, I was 'aving ze most magnifique conversation weeth zat blond soldier, ze one with ze French tongue," Francoise purred. Alice groaned inwardly, Francoise putting effort into making the end of the sentence sound as unclean as possible. "Heez name ees Matthew, by ze way. Zo after you left, I went back to finish what I started. As eet turns out, eet ended with him agreeing to zee me tonight!" Francoise squealed, earning a wince from her unwilling companion.

"Smashing," Alice drawled sarcastically. "Who knew you were a squaddie mattress? Now why did you feel the need to burst into my room so _rudely _and share that with me? What does this have to do with me?"

Francoise gave her a crooked smile and Alice's eyes widened with the feeling of impending horror. "Oh no… Bloody hell Francoise, what did you do this time, you little frog?"

The sapphire eyed girl tsked. "Still zo rude," she murmured, looking off into the distance dramatically. She looked back at the terrified Brit a moment later with an innocent look on her beautiful face. "Well… you zee… Matthew iz such a gentleman, much as you would like to theenk otherwise. When I asked heem about tonight, he said he would only go eef I found someone for his friend, not wanting heem to feel left out. I said I knew someone to bring along…" she trailed off, looking up at Alice suggestively. The blonde's face paled even more.

"NO! Bloody hell, no! I am not going on some blind date for your sake! Especially not with some strange American soldier! No!"

Francoise almost looked sheepish. "Ze theeng iz… hees not a stranger, Alice. You met heem at ze store, remember? Ze one with ze loud voice?"

That was almost worse. Alice gaped at her for a moment, feeling a little vein throb near her temple. THAT idiot? Francoise wanted her to go out with HIM? It took a few moments for Alice to regain her powers of speech. "Are you mad? Why in the name of hell would I want to go out with that dumb Yank?"

"Because, mon cher, I spoke with ze boy. He seems to find you interesting. Eet was hees idea to go with you, in fact."

Alice was fairly shocked. "Why would he want to go to town with me?"

Francoise shrugged dismissively. "I have no idea why he would want to go out with you," she said nonchalantly, causing Alice to stiffen. "But for any reason, he does." She turned her big sparkling eyes up on Alice, already starting to plead with her without saying a word. "S'il vous plait, Alice?"

"Absolutely not."

"Whyyyyyy?"

Alice scoffed in annoyance. "Didn't you hear what I told you about Americans? They're annoying, foolish, conceited, and oversexed and naïve." Her eyes grew cold on the last word. That was what she possibly despised the most about the men. "They don't know anything. Fuck-all squared. They're in everything for the sport of it all." She crossed her arms.

"Wasn't eet you who said zat ze rumors about ze Americans were greatly exaggerated?" Francoise pointed out, looking perpetually amused. "Perhaps your conceptions of zer faults are false as well."

The blonde stiffened. She didn't like her words being twisted around like that. "Oh, shut up! You know it's true. They think this war is a game, an easy way to come home and be hailed as 'heroes'," she bit, letting sarcasm drip from every letter of the word 'heroes'. "Life is crueler than that. I can only hope they learn that as we did."

Francoise's eyes went wide at the frozen hostility in Alice's tone, as well as in her scathing words. They hit a little too close to home for her liking. She needed to turn this around.

"Perhaps eef you met them, you would not be zo bitter towards ze darling men," she suggested. "Eet ees not 'ealthy for a girl like you to be zo 'ateful. Even eef some of zem are what you say, you must be reasonable to give zem ze benefit of ze doubt, hm? And even eef what you say ees true, zey are still fighting, and I am sure zey're 'earts are in ze right place. Just try to play nice with zem tonight, eh?" She started to stand and Alice narrowed her eyes. Her tone was quickly becoming unfortunately recognizable. Alice knew that tone to be the one meaning 'I'm sounding polite, but really, you have no choice. Ohonhonhon.'

"Sod it! You're going to drag me out tonight no matter what I say. But I am certainly not 'playing nice' with that idiot, as you like to say it," Alice growled, glaring daggers at the triumphant young woman. It was as if Francoise hadn't even heard her, she was already halfway out the door, having gotten what she wanted.

"Ah, magnifique! I shall be back for you tonight zen, ma petite fleur en anglais. Dress nicely, why do you?" Alice could feel the gloating rolling off of her in waves. Damn her. "Au revoir for now, ma cherie."

The door slammed a few moments later. Alice sat on her bed, putting her head in her hands. Why did she let her friend do this to her? As a matter of fact, why was she even her friend in the first place? Alice sighed. She was going to regret this, she just knew it.

~~~  
"Aaaaaaaliiiice!"

The girl in question groaned at the stringent squeal of her torturer. Yes, Francoise was the torturer here. She started this, therefore it was her fault. Honestly, why did Alice's mother continue to let her into their home without warning her daughter? Francoise's presence demanded earplugs. And possibly a shotgun.

Alice jumped a good meter when Francoise swept into her room with little warning, the blonde letting out a surprised screech. "Have you never heard of knocking in your country?" Alice yelled at her, not really expecting Francoise to be remorseful. She knew her better by now. She especially wasn't going to be dragged down tonight, looking too pretty and vain and pleased with herself to care about Alice's wants.

She really did look stunning. Granted, she was wearing a dress too fancy and too 'come hither' for what Alice thought they would be doing tonight, but she always did this. Her dress was of course a form fitting sheath down past her knees in a lovely color that fell right on the edge of dark sapphire and amethyst that could shift with any movement she made. The sleeves were short and capped and the neck plunged into a sweetheart neckline. Two small red decorative buttoned adorned a strap crossing her neck, with more pairs of buttons at her waist and at the top of the slit at the hem of her dress, revealing several centimeters of crimson satin.

Her hair was up, like always, but with several curly locks of her dark ash blonde hair framing face and falling loosely from her French twist down the back of her neck. Her eyes were lined with dark mascara to emphasize her shining sapphire eyes and her lips were coated with lush ruby lipstick. Where did she even get lipstick around here?

Despite her unwillingness to go in the first place, Alice couldn't help but feel a little inferior by comparison. It would take a true beauty queen to not feel inadequate next to Francoise. In contrast, Alice was dressed much more casually, not to mention less expensively. She was in a short and simple button down dress in an olive green. The hem was short but flowy and the neckline in a similar (though not as plunging) sweetheart dip as Francoise's. The sleeves were short and cuffed and the waist cinched in nicely with a little pocketed belt. Alice didn't wear makeup, and her pale face and light eyelashes and faint pink lips did look washed out next to the femme fatale standing beside her. Her spirit sank a little. Of course she was going to get shown up good tonight.

Not that Francoise noticed Alice's discontent – or more likely, she just didn't care. "Oh Alice, you look lovely! I'm zo glad you decided to try tonight, eet shall be zo much more fun eef you do! I am zo 'appy, you shall 'ave a good time tonight, I shall make sure of eet!"

"Do your worst," Alice muttered, practically daring Francoise to make her enjoy herself that night. How dare she try to get Alice in a good mood? The nerve on that girl… "Anyway, when must we go? I'm about ready," she sighed.

"Magnifique!" Francoise squealed, grabbing Alice's wrist without even giving her adequate time to put her brush down. She dragged the struggling and cursing girl out the door into the hallway of their flat building, calling out a farewell to Alice's mother. The French girl didn't necessarily look it, but she could be pretty strong, especially when fighting against 8 stones of struggling Brit. Alice didn't stand a chance.

Once out on the street, Francoise finally relinquished Alice's hand. The blonde jumped back, grumbling and rubbing her wrist. She glanced up at the sky, a little disappointed with the clouds accumulating over the stars. The stars were her favorite part of the nighttime. Alice sighed, giving Francoise a slightly evil eye. "So? Where are you bringing me?"

Tanzanite eyes glinted mischievously, never a good sign for Alice. Francoise grinned. "We are meeting zem at ze Still and West Country 'ouse, ma cherie. 'ave you been zere? Eet ees lovely, and right next to ze 'arbor. I think you will like eet."

Alice grumbled to herself, turning away from her friend a little bit. "Fine, fine then, let's just go then," she muttered. Francoise squealed with excitement and started to drag Alice by her hand again. However, this time Alice more or less didn't really struggle. She had accepted what she had gotten herself into by this point. If she was going to go through with this (and she didn't have the option not to,) she might as well stop fighting so much over something so insignificant. That wasn't to say she was going to outright try and have a good time like Francoise wanted. But struggling wasn't going to get her anywhere. She'd just look… unladylike.

Francoise's amused laughter kept on ringing through the streets as she hurried along, towing Alice behind. Her laughter seemed to give more life to the wet cobblestoned streets, the pavement glistening from the warmly glowing streetlamps. They dashed by empty lots of ash and fresh buildings alike as they hurried towards the port.

The Still and West was a decent looking pub, three stories, with creamily painted brick and a stony terrace and a deck overlooking the harbor. Francoise pushed Alice to the doors, still smiling too much for Alice's taste. Alice looked up at the painted wall, grimacing with discomfort. Here went nothing, she supposed, as Francoise led her into the pub.


	3. Chapter 3

One glass tankard three quarters filled clinked down against the tabletop gently. The other was completely full of the amber liquid, not having been touched since its arrival at the table. Alfred let his eyes wader around the establishment for the umpteenth time. It was a pretty nice joint, he had to admit. The bar composed of shining, expensive looking dark wood, the low crossing rafters against the creamy ceiling, the soft lighting – everything about the place looked dark and dignified. Classier than American bars by a long shot, but perhaps a little duller. So far, no bar fights to watch or games on the radio to bet on. Oh well. It had been so long since he'd been to a drinking establishment that he was ecstatic to be here and drink actual beer again. The limeys had decent beer, he'd give them that too. Besides, the night was young.

"Aren't they here yet?" he complained lightly, twirling his finger around the rim of his glass in boredom. His companion just shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

"Yes, they are in fact here, they're just invisible," he deadpanned. Ironic that he would make the invisibility joke, he who was so often overlooked. His violet eyes glazed over slightly with annoyance. "Look Alfred, just be patient. It's just a little past seven. They'll be here soon, I'm sure of it."

Alfred pouted. There were many things he was not good at. Patience was one of them. "I'm just antsy over here," he grumbled. He had never been found of sitting still for any reason either, while they were on the subjects of things he was no good at.

Matthew tilted his head at him, almost amused. "Why, Alfred – are you actually nervous about your date? This isn't like you."

"Heroes don't get nervous, especially over stuff like dates!" Alfred insisted. "This is gonna be awesome!" His eyes betrayed his worry though. What had he been thinking?

They had been at the store. His brother had just informed him that he was going out tonight – a somewhat surprising revelation, giving his tendency to be shy around strangers. It was normally Alfred who got the girls at home. Anyway, that French girl had come back and was right beside him, already hanging off of Matthew. Alfred could barely understand her accent, but he picked out something about a double date. In one moment of clarity, "I theenk I might know someone to see you tonight."

"How about that blonde?"

Damn. He had actually said that. What had he been thinking again? He wasn't even sure he had been entirely serious. He had been stunned when Francoise had said she could make it happen. How on earth could she convince her? The little Brit seemed quite foreboding. She was damn cute and he liked that she had a real spirit in her, it was mad hot. Seeing her flustered was quite adorable as well, though that hadn't been his intent. But the small girl was harsh. Alfred had barely said a word to her before she bit his head off. He didn't even get what she had been yelling at him about anyway. He had just been trying to ask her a simple question. How was he supposed to have a good time with her tonight, not knowing in the slightest what could set her off?

Matthew smirked in his direction. "Whatever you say, pal," he murmured. Hearing the light tapping of heels on the lacquered wood floors, he turned his head towards the entrance with a faint smile on his face. "I think they're here."

Alfred followed his brother's eyes, his own widening in anxiety. At the same time though, he put on the blinding smile he was so proud of. She did look pretty… Here went nothing.

Alice blinked, her grassy eyes adjusting to the light as she looked around the dimly lit pub. It was lovely in here. She had never been here, but she had been told some nice things about it. She didn't get to dwell on it though. Lithe fingers were still wrapped tight around her wrist as Francoise dragged her further into the restaurant. "Zey're over 'ere, Alice," she told her, pointing to a round table in the middle of the floor.

She followed where Francoise was gesturing and bit the inside of her cheek. There he was, that daft American, looking like a deer in headlights with how open his sea blue eyes were. He looked sort of taken aback, and Alice wasn't sure just why. He stood up after a moment, and Alice scowled lightly before she felt an elbow jab her in the ribs. She switched her glare over to Francoise, but the Frenchwoman was already ignoring her friend's annoyance.

"Ah, Matthew!" She cried lightly, letting go of Alice to quickly embrace the other blonde who had stood up. Alice blinked. She hadn't seen him there a moment ago. Francoise turned back to Alice after a moment, batting her eyes coyly. "Alice, of course you remember Alfred and, um, Matthew," she introduced smoothly. As if Alice didn't remember the other one. Her 'date'. Oh, wonderful.

"Yes, yes, I remember him," she grumbled, shooting Alfred an irritated look out of acknowledgement. He looked like he had calmed himself down, and stepped forward to pull out Alice's chair, still grinning idiotically at her. Alright, he got that part right. She still wasn't thrilled with this though. Matthew did the same for Francoise and the date had begun.

Francoise was the first to speak, of course. She glanced around everyone at the table and Alice could see her little brain hard at work finding a way to make this evening work. Good luck with that.

"Zo, what brings you two men to Angelterre?" she asked right off. Alice shook her head. What kind of question was that? They were two GIs, what did she think they were here for? To sightsee?

Matthew and Alfred exchanged looks and it was Matthew who responded. "Well, of course we can't discuss the specifics. But our squadrons happened to meet up and we'll be heading over to the mainland soon, I expect."

Alfred grinned broadly at the mention of mainland. "Yeah, I hope it's soon! Being on the boat getting over here was so boring. I want to see some action!" For a few moments he had brightened even more, happy he had found some way to talk. "I mean, what was all our training for anyway? I can't wait to go kick some German ass!" He didn't notice Alice recoiling on the other side of him, glaring at him furiously. Francoise noticed though, sending the blonde girl an unreadable glance before turning her attention back to Alfred.

Francoise nodded, looking interested. "What was training like?" she asked, faking interest remarkably well. Alice looked down at the table and scoffed. Was she really interested? Probably not. Francoise wouldn't care too much about anything not related more to her and what she liked to talk about. That certainly didn't stop her from talking however, babbling on about whatever she could imagine while Matthew tried to get a word in edgewise. Alfred had slightly better luck babbling when he could, but it was still no use against the Frenchwoman. Matthew tried to follow along, but once Francoise was off, she was off. Alice grimaced. Not only was Francoise's voice starting to get on her nerves and give her a headache, but her nonstop chatter only made the tense lack of talking between her and Alfred worse. They hadn't said one word to each other thus far.

Alice never looked at him. Alfred tried to catch her eye once or twice, but just looked away from her awkwardly. He was starting to deflate ever so slightly. Even he couldn't ignore the hostility radiating from her. He felt as if she would cut his head off if he so much as said a word to her. She was so… cold! How was he supposed to have a good time if his date was a block of ice? Since when did heroes have such problems with getting a cute girl to just look at them? This wasn't like him at all. He looked at her one last time eventually. He made up his mind that he was going to salvage something out of this evening. He was going to make her smile if it was the last thing he did. And frankly, with Alice, he wouldn't be surprised if it was.

The air was still thick and uncomfortable long after Francoise had finished her tirade of nothing in particular. For a few moments the four were seeped in awkward silence never truly broken by some small coughs or anything of the like. This wasn't going well.

"Well, zees 'as been lovely, but I want a drink. Matthew, can we go to ze bar?" Francoise asked out of nowhere, standing up with a flourish. Alice glared at her furiously, daring her to leave and abandon her with the awkward, idiot American. Francoise pretended not to notice, smiling stiffly. "Matthew, please?"

"Um, sure, alright." He stood up reluctantly and glanced over at Alfred apologetically. Francoise latched onto his arm and dragged him away from the table, leaving the two bespectacled blondes alone, much to the dismay of them both.

Dead silence.

This was what Alfred had been worrying about. He couldn't have a one on one conversation with this girl. Hell, he hadn't been having a conversation involving her at all. As far as he knew, they had nothing in common. What could they possibly talk about? But if he didn't do something, this night was going to be a waste and she was going to continue to hate him for… what exactly had he done to her again? Whatever, he didn't want to waste this evening. He was with a cute girl and he had copious amounts of good alcohol within reach. He was going to pull something out of this even if it killed him.

"So..." he forced a smile at Alice, "um… how did you and Frenchie meet?" he asked awkwardly. It seemed like as good a place as any to start a conversation.

Alice just glared at him with those cold green eyes of hers, not saying anything for a moment. Alfred could feel himself drawing back against her gaze. "She left France. This was the closest town across the channel." Pretty straightforward. "She moved to the flat below mine."

He tilted his head. "…what's a flat?"

Oh bloody hell.

She glared at him incredulously, scoffing. "_Apartment,_ you bloody idiot. Learn proper English."

Alfred blinked at her. "Hey, I know my English. It's not my fault it's all weird over here."

"Our English came first, you wanker! It was you stupid Americans who bastardized it!"

"That's exactly what I mean. What the heck's a wanker?"

"You!"

Alfred sat back. Well, this wasn't going well. Alice was glowering at him. What had he even said? She was so easy to tick off, he didn't know what he was doing to do it. He couldn't even enjoy it. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at her. "Look, sweetheart-"

"Don't call me sweetheart!"

Dear lord… "Fine then, Alice. Calm down. I'm sorta lost here. What exactly did I do? Why do you dislike me so much? You don't know me, and really, I don't know you. All I'm asking for is to know why you're so pissed at me."

She stiffened. Her reasons would be over his head. She didn't feel like getting into it. Alice didn't let up her relentless glare at him. "You wouldn't get it. I don't need to justify myself to you anyway. It is absolutely none of your business."

"It's my business when someone is mad at me for reasons I don't even get. Try me, seriously. Tell me. What did I do to you? Geez…" Ask anyone who knew Alfred; he was not a mind reader. Far from it, he couldn't read between the lines if his life depended on it. With Alice, it seemed, much to his misfortune, that his life very well might depend on it because of how irritable she was and that she wouldn't tell him a damned thing!

Alice was growing annoyed. At least, more annoyed than she had been earlier, if that was even possible. "You just annoy me, all of you do!" she snapped.

"What do you mean, 'all of you'?"

"Americans!"

That got a slightly hurt look from Alfred. It was kicked-puppy-esque and for a split second Alice almost felt bad about that comment. But not quite.

Alfred blinked once or twice sadly. "Why did you even agree to this anyway, if you hate Americans so much – for reasons I don't get?"

"I didn't agree. That damn frog princess swindled me into it. I had no choice."

He nodded, glancing at the bar where Francoise and Matthew were talking quietly, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Yeah. I can see that."

She leaned her cheek into her palm on the table, not responding. Damn. Alfred leaned back. Conversation, if he could call it that, terminated, it seemed. Silence once again descended over their table, unbroken by the murmurings of conversation around them and the occasional demure laughter coming from near the bar. This girl was being so difficult. Now there was really but one thing to do – to the alcohol.

Alfred reached for his still mostly intact tankard of beer and chugged half of what remained. That was a little better. Good alcohol always made stuff better. He dared another look over at Alice, pointedly looking away from him. She hadn't had anything since getting here. "Um… you want a beer or something?" he asked simply. "I'll pay."

She turned her head back to him, raising an eyebrow pointedly. "I'd rather not," she responded icily. "I don't drink beer. I'm a lady."

He shrugged. "That's not what your friend said this morning. Frankly, I sort of believe her more than you, honey."

Alice glowered at him again, her cheeks ever so slightly dusted with pink. At this point, Alfred was getting over being frightened. It was sort of cute, actually. And entertaining. "Don't listen to a word she says!" She sat back for a moment, exasperated. "Oh bloody hell, she's such a stupid frog, they all are…"

He raised his hands a little defensively. "Hey, hey. You do that a lot you know. Like… saying all people are this or something…"

"Generalize?"

"Yeah, that word!" He nodded quickly, adding the big word to his vocabulary. "You're always doing that! It's not always true! Like, the French are not that dumb." Alfred turned away slightly, raising his beer to his lips. "I've heard they all know how to say 'I surrender!' in ten languages," he muttered.

He spun back to the table at the sound of an odd noise. It sounded like a snort almost, mixed with a suppressed laugh. Alice was hunched over, her face hidden behind a swath of blonde bangs, covering her mouth. Alfred glanced at her in astonishment for a few moments, confused. Then understanding broke out across his face in form of his dazzling grin. She had laughed! He had gotten her to laugh! Hell yeah! "You thought that was funny!"

"No I didn't, no I didn't," Alice insisted, lifting her head up and trying to look serious. But her pink dusted cheeks betrayed her amusement.

Alfred pointed to her cheeks, laughing a little. This was great! "You did! You totally did! I knew it!" He punched the air in a victory stance. "Alright, your turn!"

"M-my turn for what?"

His grin wasn't letting up any time soon. "A joke? You got any jokes?"

She shook her head hastily, covering her mouth again for a second. "No, no, I don't know any French jokes," she insisted. However, she tilted her head thoughtfully for a moment. "Well, maybe just one," she said slowly, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Lay it on me." Alfred blinked at her dumbly for a second. Her eyes looked really gorgeous right now, even more gorgeous than they normally were. Was it just the lighting? Or was that her actually being happy over something?

"Um… what do you call 100,000 Frenchmen with their hands up?"

"I dunno."

"Their army."

Alice started laughing at her own joke a split second before Alfred loudly joined in, taking a moment to actually get it. That hadn't been too bad. However, Alfred's laughter started to die out before hers for an unexpected reason. He just stared at Alice, dumbstruck more than he naturally was. Wow… she had a really cute laugh. A really, really cute laugh. And when she laughed, she smiled and her smile was the sweetest and most adorable thing. Alice had beautiful eyes and a sweet smile and an adorable laugh… there was nothing Alfred wanted more than to see her like that more often.

He hadn't realized he had been spacing out as her laughter had started to die down. He only snapped out of it when her smile vanished, replaced by a confused scowl. "What are you staring at, git?"

Well, nothing lasts forever.

Alfred sat up rapidly, almost falling out of his chair in his haste. He gave her a sheepish grin. "You, sweetheart. Do you know how cute you looked right then?"

Alice's cheeks burned pink, stunned. She opened her mouth, about to bite back a response, but just as she opened her mouth, someone else did.

"Ah, what ees thees? Iz ma petit Alice 'aving a good time?"

The blonde girl looked up quickly, surprised to see Francoise hovering over Alfred's chair, a smug and knowing smile on her face. Alice stood up as fast as she could, shaking the table. "W-what? No, what are you talking about?"

Francoise laughed as Alfred looked on in confusion. What had just happened? "I know what I saw, cheri. You were enjoying yourself. But I am afraid eet ees time we take our leave, Alice. I promised your mother zat I'd 'ave you 'home early." She beamed at Alice innocently. "I know you like to be 'ome at a… proper time."

"Um… yes, you're right," Alice said hastily, moving away from the table. She put a hand to her temple quickly, calming herself. Alfred deflated slightly. He could almost see the ice encasing her again. Dammit, he had been making a little bit of progress with her. This was disappointing.

"So, you two ladies are calling it a night?" a quiet voice sounded from behind them.

Alice jumped, glancing at Matthew with her eyes wide. Was he there just a second ago? "Bloody… don't sneak up on people like that," she insisted. "And yes, we should be leaving now, I suppose."

Francoise turned to Matthew, embracing him and kissing him on each cheek. "Au revoir Matthew, then. I had a lovely time tonight, and I'm sure Alice did too." She blatantly ignored Alice's grimace of disapproval. "So, when can we see each other again?"

"How about tomorrow for lunch?"

"Sounds magnifique."

Alfred glanced at Alice. Did he want to see her again? She was so volatile. He didn't know what he could talk to her about and it was so easy to offend her anyway. And he had never met someone so hard to make smile. He didn't know if it was worth it. But then again… her smile. Wow, her smile was great. He grinned again just thinking about it. It would be so worth it to see her smile and hear her laugh again.

He strolled up to her. "So, what about it?"

Alice blinked. Why was he so close to her? "What about what?"

He smiled gently. "Going out tomorrow."

Was this actually happening? Alice's mind wasn't even functioning right now. Why would he want to ask her out again? Tonight hadn't gone that well. She still wasn't sure she even really could tolerate him. She glanced over him icily. "I don't know," she said coldly, turning towards the door. "Francoise, you coming?"

Francoise smiled charmingly at Matthew and kissed his cheek again. "Au revoir, Matthew." With that she hurried out after her friend. She smiled at Alice sweetly, leaning her head on the blonde's shoulder. "Zo, Alice, tell me. 'ow did you enjoy your date? I know you were 'aving a good time, don't try to deny eet. You two were laughing. Ah, l'mour ees een ze air, I know eet!"

Alice glared at her harshly. "What the bloody hell are you saying? I was about to kill him most of the evening! You call that 'l'mour' or whatever? You are so very wrong, Francoise. Like you were to set me up like this!"

She just shook her head, ignoring Alice's rant. "I know what I saw, ma cheri. Why were you laughing then?"

"We were telling French jokes! That's all you are, by the way!"

For a second a dark look crossed over Francoise's face. She looked almost hurt for a heartbeat. But it was gone too fast for Alice to have even seen it. Francoise put on a smile again, again ignoring everything Alice had said in the past few moments. "Zo, are you coming weeth me tomorrow for lunch? Alfred asked you, did he not?"

"No. I don't want to go. That's that!"

Alice stormed ahead of Francoise, wanting to get home desperately at this point. Her back to Francoise, she didn't see the scheming grin cross her friend's face. Oh, Alice would be going tomorrow, if Francoise had anything to say about it.


	4. Chapter 4

Crackling sounds of the radio filtered through the door of Alice's room and into her sleeping ears. Grumbling inaudibly, Alice raised her head, sending death glares to the door. Her hair was a tangled mess of blonde over her eyes and she attempted to pull her fingers through the knotted strands as she sat up. God, it felt so early. She glanced on the side table at the small white clock. It was sort of early. Why? She hadn't gotten home that late the previous evening.

It couldn't have been past nine. Alice's mother hadn't said a single prying word as Alice walked through the door, just gave a gentle smile, a quiet welcome home and a good evening as Alice went to her bedroom for the night. Not that she was getting off scot-free from an interrogation. Alice knew her mother was just waiting until the morning to spring the questions. Well, time to face the music. Figuratively and literally as well. The radio still played from the other side of the wood.

Dragging herself out of bed, Alice forced her legs to bring her to the doorknob, not caring about her disheveled appearance. It was just her mother. No need to look special. A smile reluctantly crossed her face as she opened the door and heard the song on the radio more clearly. It was Vera Lynn's 'Red Sails in the Sunset', a favorite of hers. Well, that wasn't so bad.

Her mother was waiting. She was seated at the round table, a cup of tea in front of her, a sly smile gracing red lips. Alice felt the mild dread build up in her stomach. The phrase 'lamb to the slaughter' crossed her mind.

"So love, how was last night?" Mary asked. She wasn't wasting any time.

Alice scoffed. "Irritating."

What kind of mother would leave it at that? Mary's smile didn't let up. "Really now? That's a shame, dear. What happened?"

"Nothing, really, nothing happened. Francoise left us, and so we just sat there, staring at each other. It was silent and awkward and he was obnoxious and not very bright."

She wasn't convinced and pursed her lips at her daughter questioningly. "Did you really give him a chance, love?"

"Of course I did." Alice rolled her eyes. "And I will sincerely tell you that it was one of the worst dates of my life."

Mary smiled softly again. "Alice, sweetheart, you don't go on many dates. Saying this one wasn't good isn't really saying much."

Alice sat back. "Mother, I know what I think is and is not enjoyable. I did not have a good time on that date last night and that is that. Good God, I don't even want to think of it as a date. It was just something Francoise roped me into for her own means. End of story. Can we please drop it?"

Her mother raised her hands in mock surrender, a playful look in her eyes. "I'm sorry darling, I don't mean to pry. I just want you happy, that's all."

"Thank you."

"Now that that's out of the way," Mary said briskly, moving on seamlessly. "Get dressed, please. You have some chores to do and I don't want you doing them in your panties."

Alice's eyes widened a little with distaste. "Please don't say things like that, Mother. It isn't tasteful." She pulled her chair out from the table and stood up, already angling her back towards the tiny hallway.

"You say worse quite often, as I recall."

"Perhaps, but never around you." And Alice left, ending that conversation.

No sooner had Alice shut her bedroom door than she heard a knock on another one. She heard the clicking of her mother's heels as she rose from the table to answer it and Alice scoffed, buttoning on a threadbare white blouse before reaching for an apron. _Probably Francoise,_ Alice muttered to herself. _Why is that daft girl over here so early? I was with her enough last night. I swear, that girl is going to drive me to the madhouse-_

"Alice, could you come here please?"

She was almost surprised that it was her mother's voice instead of Francoise's. The blonde exhaled a breath of annoyance. "Coming Mother!" she called, tying on the apron. Francoise would probably tsk disapprovingly for an hour on just how plain and unfashionable Alice looked. She gritted her teeth as she turned towards the door, not bothering to put her hair into their usual pigtails. What was the point? Alice stepped out of her room and down the short hallway to the kitchen. "Yes Mother, do we have a visitor-"

Her annoyed scowling was cut off by a scream of shock followed by the stunned girl hastily covering her chest with her arms. Her face grew bright cherry red. Standing before her in the doorway to her home, next to her mother (who was frowning at her daughter's outburst,) was Alfred. The idiot American G.I. In her home. And staring at her.

Alice needed a moment to pick her jaw up off the floor. Why was he here?! Why, why, oh why? To make matters worse, her mother was still staring at her disapprovingly. The blonde girl finally found her voice again, backing up from her stance.

"… what the bloody hell are you doing here?" she spat, not able to reign herself back in much, even with her mother's stare on her. "How do you even know where I live, you creep?"

"Alice, dear, calm down," Mary warned her daughter. She looked up and down her daughter's outfit, trying not to draw attention to it. God knows Alice would be mortified enough.

"I ask you again, how do you know where I live?" Alice repeated, her voice starting to go shrill. Mary continued to glare at her, defiantly stepping aside and gesturing Alfred in, much to her daughter's dismay. "Mother!"

"Alice, might I remind you of what you are wearing?" she pointed out, referring to her daughter's barely dressed state. The reminder earned an embarrassed squeak from Alice, causing the girl to scurry backwards to her room and slam the door. Mary sighed and turned to the poor bewildered soldier, clearly having no idea what had just happened. "I am dreadfully sorry about her. Can I get you anything?"

Back in her room, Alice had slid to the ground against the door in mortification. Oh dear Lord. He was in her house. She didn't know how. But he was. And her mother was being such a traitor, letting him in! And of course she was in barely more than her undergarments. Of course she was. She silently cursed Francoise in her head, standing up. It was as if the Frenchwoman had done all this, somehow. Alice certainly wouldn't put it past her, the little she-demon. That irrepressible little tramp in her mission of 'l'amour'.

And now her mother had betrayed her as well. Nothing Alice could do about that now. She groaned, starting to get dressed. She couldn't hide out in here now. Her mother would drag her out here, since Alfred was obviously here to see her. Again, very creepy of him. Alice threw on a plain, patched grey skirt before brushing her hair and putting it up carefully and leaving her room reluctantly.

When she entered the kitchen, she found Alfred sitting next to her mother, a small steaming cup in front of him and an uncomfortable look on his face as he looked up at Alice. Alice scowled at him, keeping her distance from him as she marched across the kitchen to the stove. "May I ask you _now_, what you are doing here, Mr. Jones?" she asked icily.

"Alice," her mother said slowly, answering for Alfred before he could open his mouth too wide. "He has something for you." She gestured to the space on the table between them. On the table lay a small faded brown purse.

"You left your pocketbook at the bar last night. This kind young man was merely returning it."

Alice pressed her lips together awkwardly. Oh. So he hadn't been stalking her. Nor had Francoise given him her address. He had probably found it in the bag. She grimaced, staring down at the stove. "My apologies," she muttered.

"It's a-okay," Alfred said cautiously. Her mom seemed nice enough, but Alice was still freaking at the sight of him. He needed to find some way to calm her down. He had done it for a second last night. It was possible. "Just wanted to get it back to you, you know."

She nodded sharply, still looking down. "I see. Thank you."

Mary smiled lightly. "And while you were taking your time getting dressed, Alice, I was speaking to Lieutenant Jones here about last night."

Alice glanced up at her mother, her eyes wide. That didn't sound good. Well, for her anyway. Her mother's smile deepened. Oh no. That was a cunning smile. Her mother was planning something. "And he also mentioned something about taking you out for lunch today. With Francoise and… what was the other one's name again?" she asked, turning back to Alfred for a moment.

"Matt. My brother," he told her patiently before looking up at Alice, smiling again like he had last night. All bright and full of optimism. "Yeah. I had a helluva time last night. So I'd like you to go out with me today, if you wouldn't mind."

"She'd love to," Mary said with an almost equally bright smile, answering for her daughter. Alice stiffened. So that was it. She didn't get a choice here, did she?

Nope.

Alfred's face absolutely lit up, not even noticing Alice's look of absolute horror. "She will? You mean you will?" he asked enthusiastically, looking like a boy whose father was home for his birthday. "Aw, this is great!" He shot up from his chair, shaking the table. Poor boy looked like he was going to explode from sheer excitement.

"Yes, I'll have her ready for you by eleven," Mary promised, looking very satisfied with herself. Alice narrowed her eyes at her. She wasn't getting away with this. Or maybe she was.

"Mother-" Alice tried to slip in, but to no avail. Her mother kept on talking over her, helping a very eager Alfred to the door.

"Pick her up here around eleven, will you dear?" Mary asked Alfred sweetly, met by eager nodding. "Alright then love, she'll see you then. Now, thank you for dropping by for a spell, but I'm sure a soldier like you is a busy man. You best be getting along now," she insisted, shooing him out the door. "And again, thank you for returning my daughter's pocketbook. Goodbye now." With that, she finally shut the door with Alfred on the other side of it. If you listened closely, you could hear muffled sounds of excitement coming from the other side.

Alice was stone faced as her mother sat back down at the table, sipping her tea like nothing happened. "Now then, Alice. You have chores to get on, girl."

".. what... in the name of the Queen was _that_?" Alice asked at long last, her mouth gaping. "Did you ever think of asking me if I even wanted to go out with the git? Of which I don't?"

Mary gave her a patient look. "Alice, dear, you are going to thank me for this," she assured her.

"May I ask how?"

She sighed. "Alice, you never go out. It's not healthy for a young lady to have no social life. You need to go out and be with your friends." Alice opened her mouth to protest, but once again, Mary gave her no mind. "I think you should give that young man a chance," she added.

"I gave him a chance last night."

"You did not give him a fair chance last night, and you know it," she pointed out. "In the little time I spoke to him, he seems like a very kind young man. Just go today, Alice. Really give him a chance. What do you have to lose?"

"My self-respect," Alice grumbled, turning away to grab the broom tucked into the corner of the kitchen.

"That's the spirit." Mary gave a cheery smile behind her back, sipping. "Now get to work on your chores, dearie. Don't want you to end up late for Lieutenant Jones."

"Wouldn't want that," the blonde muttered bitterly, taking the broom and falling into silence.


End file.
